


Don’t Fraternise With The Enemy

by ImaginationTrash



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Other, Reader is gender neutral, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, because we love powers in this household, halfway serious and halfway stupid, oh also reader is one of those 43 kids so they got powers too, there's not enough Diego content so by God I'll make it myself, yeah thats about it folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2020-10-12 18:44:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20569097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaginationTrash/pseuds/ImaginationTrash
Summary: Some of these children had remained hidden, fearful of themselves and their “powers”. Others had been selected to do good, personally picked by an eccentric billionaire. This person in particular? Well, they had gotten into some shady business practices. Morally wrong? Arguably. Helpful to those in need? Not particularly. But they’ll be damned if it wasn’t good fun.In a world where literally anything could happen, why not throw in some some soulmate nonsense. What's the worst that could happen? It's just a simple fic where Diego finds his soulmate. If you discount the art theft.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cosmic forces can be such ass-holes

The hair of a paintbrush determines the entire mood of a portrait. For instance, Hog Bristle has thick, coarse hair, making it perfect for thick-bodied paints. Whereas, Ox Hair is typically used for water colour application, the soft texture making it hard to maintain a fine point. The paintbrush marked into the thief’s chest, however, was the stereotypical rounded style. Complete with the little flick at the end. From what the owner could tell, it was Squirrel hair. Typically used for lettering and quills. Absentmindedly they stroke their chest, the place their mark resides. Now, they had no qualms with this. It was the knife protruding from out of the end of the brush handle that held major concern.

Soulmate marks were commonplace. There were no recorded instances of people without a life long partner/s. For most, it was a thing of joy, one less worry in a big and unjust world. No one knows when the first soulmate mark appeared, they had always been apart of history. Tales of partners yearning for their lovers as they leave for war, deep soliloquies dedicated to the inevitable loss of your other half. Quite frankly, it had been done to death. But the fact that something as omnipotent as soulmates could exist gave way to a stranger more dangerous, supernatural force. The birth of this thief, for example.

Forty three. That’s how many of them there were. All born to mothers that had not shown any signs of pregnancy previously. All suddenly giving birth. Buses, trains, and swimming pools. Anywhere and everywhere. Of course the madness didn’t end there. It never does. It just so happens that these children possessed “powers”. Like the soulmate mark, no one knows the cause. That, my friend, is the consequence of living in a world where literally anything could happen. Some of these children had remained hidden, fearful of themselves and their “powers”. Others had been selected to do good, personally picked by an eccentric billionaire. This person in particular? Well, they had gotten into some  _ shady _ business practices. Morally wrong? Arguably. Helpful to those in need? Not particularly. But they’ll be damned if it wasn’t good fun. 

_ To be an art thief is truly the stupidest use of my “powers”, I mean shadow manipulation is cool and all but if I had something to do with the arts, well that would sure be better suited.  _

The thief ponders, waiting behind a marble pillar. Best to lean on something while using their abilities to cloak their gang of fiendish art nerds. Each one hidden in a different part of the grandiose room. The room itself was definitely greco-roman inspired. Each room seemed to have its own special theme, how festive. Life-like statues lined the grey walls, all in various states of undress. Cool to look at from afar, definitely uncomfortable when you have a butt naked Hermes standing right behind you. Alas, the thief is too tired to notice, their power stretched too thin.

“C? Are you done dismantling the cameras yet? I'm gonna pass the fuck out!” 

“Hold ya horses I’m almost done!” 

With a metallic crash C yells for them to drop the cloak. (it’s the only sure fire way to tell that the cameras aren’t recording!) Which they do with much relief. 

“Oh thank fuck!”, they wheeze, “Everybody grab and load as many artefacts as you can! Take only those we can carry.” 

With an “aight boss!” the gaggle of thieves leave their hiding place, wandering the halls of this massive mansion to find their loot. Strange how an artist can get into the idea of being an art thief. To make a long story short, the art world is full of elitist scum. All these bourgeois fucks wanted to do is steal from other cultures. That wasn’t going to fly with these thieves. The entire group being made up of different artists, all from humble beginnings. Sure it was dangerous, but when your very existence is a threat to the average Joe you tend not to give a shit. 

The thief slides down the pillar, hand still rubbing the mark on their chest. It was a fate thing, when a person feels great emotion their soulmate’s mark reacts. It was comforting. Or at least it was supposed to be. Ever since arriving in this city the mark has been more and more active. Which meant that their soulmate was close by. Which also meant distraction, danger. This soulmate, whoever they were, was the knife parallel to the paintbrush. They were dangerous. 

_ Okay to be fair, I also am dangerous but this is a different league, jesus fucking christ I’m literally in a mansion why am I letting myself get distracted wi- _

“Yo bitch, come check this out!” C calls out from the neighbouring room, interrupting their thought spiral. The cameras may be offline but there could be a number of unchecked audio recording devices, it was best to avoid saying names. Not to mention secret cameras, so as much of a hassle as they are, everyone is geared up with masks. At least they leave the bottom of the face open. Pushing themselves off the smooth granite floor they make their way through the archway of two faux pillars. 

The room they next find themselves in seems to be the only modern styled room in the building. The marble of the previous room transitioned nicely into the pure white walls of this room. Minimalist, unfinished with only a few closed windows to the left and side. Not to mention the number of cables running across the floor. It’s clearly in the middle of renovations. Directly opposite, C stands close to a portrait. 

“How much you think it’s worth?” he scoffs as his boss draws nearer. C’s never been the type for post-modern art. The swirls and textured surface indicated that acrylic paints where used.

“Ain’t look name-brand to me, let’s check the back, see if we got a signature.” the thief suggests.

Hung on a large stretch of untouched wall, it drew attention. Despite his convictions against the style C unhooks it gently from its frame. One must have respect for all kinds of art after all. Placing it gently on the ground C inspects the painting. 

“Maybe it’s underground? There doesn’t seem to be any signature on it, nothing to indicate that it’s linked to any artists”

“Odd”, the thief crouches down to examine it. Textured acrylic paints aren’t uncommon at all, yet the way the brush strokes were placed seemed panicked, almost as if they were in a fit of mania. 

“C go check on the others for me, I’m getting a bad feeling ‘bout this trip” 

“Whatever, I trust your intuition more than mine”

While C turns to walk through a fire escape, a trickle of wind kisses the back of the thief’s neck. Instinctively they’re on high alert, shivers racing down their spine like a ten dollar hooker when the rent is due. Their chest aches, begging for attention. If this line of work had taught them anything, it was that the rich don’t like to be fucked with. They’ve got all the money in the world and the police on their side, what couldn't they do. Still crouching by the painting, a shadow reflects itself on the protective glass. Darting up and whipping around they find that they are too late. They can barely register the open window as the knife lodges itself into their upper thigh. 

“RUN!”,they shriek, dropping to the ground. C needs no more prompting as he’s halfway out the door already. Shouting to the others to clear out. Good man. Before any blood can drip onto the floor, the thief creates a barrier around their injury. Manipulating the density of the shadow so it becomes a tangible object. They push themselves backwards against the wall.

_ Shit fuck, I didn’t even hear them! The others won’t be able to deal with this bastard!  _

Finding a small table, housing an old fashioned lamp next to the portrait, they lift themselves up. A man, the same  _ exact _ age as our hero, stands across the room, illuminated by the moonlight. Black mask, instantly recognisable.

_ Diego Hargreeves. Umbrella Academy’s best brooding vigilante. And he’s just stabbed me in the fucking leg.  _

Through gritted teeth they shout, 

“Hey asshole, can I keep the knife?”

“Implying I won’t get to you first?” He’s right. Or at least he would have been if they hadn’t been on an equal playing field. At least he doesn’t know what this thief is capable of. Something tugs at their chest, desperate to draw this interaction out longer, at least it would give the group more time to get out of the building.

“Well Hargreeves I’d love to put you to the test but considering this huge ass knife in my leg I doubt you’d play nice”

“Play nice? Says the actual criminal.” Hargreeves retorts. At this point the opponents start circling each other. Seeing who will make the first move. “Have you already forgotten about that old man you drugged? That wasn’t playing very nice was it?”

“That old fucker? Did you know he’s got assault charges against him? I’m sparing you the gruesome details Hargreeves. I thought you’d be better than this.” 

“Just cashing in a favour.” 

“Since when did you become a hound dog for the Police?” 

“Since when did you start getting so sloppy? This isn’t nearly as precise as your Palm Springs heist. It’s not like you can’t keep up with the standard, you’re like me, aren't you?” he says, wicked smirk plastered on his face. 

A burning sensation flickering in the criminal’s chest. 

_ That knife must have left a decent sized wounded for me to already feel this unwell _

“Reading up on me huh? How sweet, you even know my birthday. You got a crush on me?”

_ Welp he knows what I’m capable of. Fuck. I should retreat. _

“You sound like a good time, a shame you’re gonna be doing hard time.”

“Well Hargreeves, doing hard time with you sounds like fun, I might just have to let you pin me”

Quite unsubtly, the thief’s tongue glides against their lips. Hargreeves seems thrown off, distracted by that overtly sensual statement. But something much more bothersome was flaring up inside his chest. And it wasn’t stopping anytime soon. By this time the two had stepped closer they were only a few paces away and breathless. As if something was taking a hold of them.  _ Fate. _ Just as the thief was about to make (or at least attempt) a move, they found themselves hurtling towards Hargreeves. They slipped on one of the many lose cables littering the floor. Their chests slam into each other as they fall to the ground. Not like it mattered, neither of them felt it. All they could feel was the almost painful burst of sensation that sprouted from their soulmate marks. Burning red hot but without any of the pain. So intense that sight had completely failed both of them. The thief could only feel desperate hands clutching onto them, begging not to let go. 

_ He’s the knife, fuck that’s so obvious. _

By the time sight had come back to them both Diego was drained, unable to fully process what had happened. Or what was currently happening. His soulmate  _ a criminal  _ was on top of him. The thief, however, was not thinking about the miracles of soulmates or true love. No, they were thinking about the best possible escape route. Being around Diego would be too dangerous for the both of them. They needed to leave now. A crackle rings in their ear, lucky thing C had convinced them to buy a headset. 

“Boss we’re ready, you’re the only one still in the building” 

_ Thank God for you C, you cynical, logical bastard.  _

Without a moment of hesitation, the thief rises and makes a mad dash for the open window. 

“W...wait! Where are you going?” Diego yells, still disorientated from the… whatever that was. He sits up, greeted to the sight of the thief, making their escape. They stop at the ledge of the window, turning to face him. 

“I have one thing to say to you.” 

“Don’t go, what the hell are yo-”, Diego’s plea falls on deaf ears as they fall backwards. 

“LMAO YEET”

And off they went, into the night, cloaked in darkness. Leaving a very confused Diego muttering.

“What the fuck just happened?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you and bae have a break down together ;)
> 
> I may do a bonus chapter where we unpack some of Diego's trauma and roast his ass for not being able to do Adult Things but I also may not. Have fun fam

Never before had Diego Hargreeves been utterly dumbfounded. For good reason too, his soulmate was one of the most prolific art thieves of all time. And he was the poor sod assigned to take them down. Well, assigned is too formal of a term. Patch had cashed in a favour, and Diego was a man of his word. That and he couldn’t give up the opportunity to take down such a high profile criminal. Who did they think they were, Carmen Fucking Sandiego? At least Diego appreciated the new dynamic between him and Patch, it kept all the charming conversations and gentle caring their relationship had provided. With less of the constant bickering of course. Shame about the sex though, he couldn’t deny missing that. Regardless of that, he had a much bigger problem on his hands. Who exactly WAS his soulmate. Sure Diego knew their criminal identity sure, but they weren’t an idiot. (Mostly, they had jumped out of a window with a knife protruding out of their leg). He hadn’t actually been made aware of any potential suspects to look out for. He was sure that the fbi had a list of suspects but he didn’t want to draw attention to his soulmate if they happened to be on that list. 

Stumped, he sat on the edge of his bed, twirling a small knife. A Cold Steel 80PGTK GI Tanto to be precise. Aka the knife Diego threw at his soulmate. The knife that carved a cosy little home into their upper thigh. He ran the tip of his thumb against the cool, blunt edge of the knife until he felt the point. Gently resting his thumb atop the point, just enough that it wouldn’t break the skin. It was slightly on the heavy side, sturdy, could take a good beating when it came down to it. Not to mention it was readily available, just a few clicks on Amazon. But all Diego could think about was the harm he had caused to his soulmate, they were a person he should be  _ protecting _ .

_ How could I fuck up this bad? Not only is my soulmate the criminal I’ve been trying to track down for months, but I fucking stabbed them. What the fuck.  _

Well who could blame him? How was he supposed to know? All he was doing was stopping a thief, that was his job! Diego, in act of annoyance, throws the knife towards a target, barely thinking about it. It lands exactly in the middle of the bulls-eye. Yet that was nothing impressive, he could do that with his eyes closed. Literally, since that was his power. With that taken care of his mind drifts back to the task at hand. He has to find them again. Realistically, he knows they can’t be far. A job as big as last night’s was bound to take months of careful planning. And since it happened right outside the city, it was safe to assume they had fled inwards to carefully distribute the goods. If they had left the city right there and then it would have brought unwanted attention to their day time aliases. The question was,  _ where? _ While in deep contemplation, Diego’s thumb brushed against the material of his uniform, right above where his mark would be. It burnt gently, the feeling was becoming comforting. Diego closes his eyes and breathes out, he’s heard of this technique through the grapevine. Since he had no other leads it couldn’t hurt him to at least  _ try _ this. _ _

_ It’s a long shot… but it’s the only lead I have. _

_ \--- _

Diego stood in the middle of the smallest art gallery he’d ever seen. It was the fifth one he’d been in that day and his desperation only increased with each passing minute. 

_ Well that was all bullshit, thanks Allison.  _

On the recommendation of his sister, Diego had allowed himself to be guided by his soulmate mark. To be pulled along by a cosmic force far greater than he could have ever been in his fleshy temple. But he couldn’t quite get the handle of it. All this great supernatural power was doing was leading him to different art galleries. Showing him vague flashes of artworks he couldn’t really decipher. Undoubtedly, he was starting to get irritated. The lighting was too bright, the paintings too abstract. He thought art galleries were supposed to have character but this one seemed to be lacking. Also the lack of prolific art thieves was adding to the irritation. The gallery seemed to be comprised of different donated pieces from name brand artists. Unfortunately, the result of this seemed to be that everything felt disjointed. He saunters around the room, because this gallery really only had one room, to try and blend in, stopping in front of a random painting. Inconspicuously, Diego lifts the top of his shirt so he can see his mark. The knife, the same knife that had injured his soulmate, stares back at him. The delicate little paintbrush pokes out of the bottom. Soulmate marks weren’t identical, the side representing the owner faced upwards. In fact that’s what must have tipped off daddy dearest about his powers. He’d never paid his soulmate mark much attention, he was taught that it was nothing but a hindrance to him and his work. Parts of Diego’s childhood refused to leave him despite how much he tried to pry it away. Part of him wished he never met them. How could they love him? His father sure didn’t seem to give a fuck and his siblings sauntered in and out of his life when they so pleased. Not to mention what Vanya had written. It was a complete tell all tale about his life and he didn’t consent to it. Unlike her, he tried to maintain a semblance of privacy. His line of work was dangerous! Why would he want the world to know about his daddy issues? Things like this made it impossible for Diego to think that anyone could love him unconditionally. 

His mark burnt slightly as he walked towards a painting in front of him. He covered the mark and inspected the painting closer. Although he always had a mild interest in art, he never quite understood it. He thought it was just a side effect of his mark. But this painting? He understood it completely. He couldn’t quite believe it, the composition, the colours... he felt the artists intention completely. Most importantly, he understood the  _ brush strokes _ . Swirls of blue, punched him in the gut, the spikes of green felt like pin pricks, he was utterly entranced. Right in the corner of the piece he sees a signature, why did that feel so familiar…

“It’s a wonderful piece isn’t it?” Diego almost leapt out of his skin, an employee had walked up behind him while he was lost in the painting. 

“Uh yeah I suppose it is. It’s just so-  _ intense _ .” he said, not quite knowing how to describe this feeling he felt. 

“The artist is actually here right now! Wait there and I’ll grab them for you!”

“Wait no that’s not-,” the employee sprints off, “necessary... Shit.” Diego stands around, suddenly very aware that he’s about to be trapped in the most awkward conversation ever. Until the burning in his chest flares up again. 

_ Oh, _ Diego realises,  _ they’re close by. Actually.. They might just be coming right to me. _

“- _ fuck” _ , a familiar voice said. Diego almost snaps his neck spinning around.  _ It was them. _

“Um? Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?” the blood drains from the artist’s face as they make eye contact with Diego. Instantly recognising each other.

“Brian I need to take my break right now okay bye”

“But we’ve got a fan here to see you!”

“YES now Brian-”

“But-” . 

“It’s PERSONAL Brian!” with that last sentence there is a moment of silence. Just a moment, before the thief makes a mad dash for the door. 

_ Still just as charming I see, _ Diego mulls as he chases after them in hot pursuit. 

\--- 

They’ve had better days sure. Having your soulmate throw a knife at you, jumping out a window and then having to stitch up said knife wound is not ideal. Having a 9 am start the next day showcasing your work in a tiny, barely frequented gallery was the cherry on top. Maybe booking this showcasing had been a bit of a cocky move but at least the thief had the audacity to keep it lowkey. Needless to say this thief was pissed. Pissed and exhausted. Of course Brian had to go mess it up, they could have gotten away with the plan if they had left the city later on in the day. Like they originally planned. At least C said he’d take care of the cargo. C was an asshole but efficient. He was the best friend/accomplice anyone could ask for. So that’s why, when they were being chased through downtown by their soulmate (Nicki Minaj’s Roman Holiday blaring in their head), they thanked their lucky stars that it was them and not C that was about to be sent to prison. There was no fighting it, they were going to get caught, they ran themself dry yesterday and couldn’t use any power. It was simple enough to use their powers when they only had to shield themself but when they had to shield multiple people for a prolonged period of time it drained their battery real quick. Not to mention, the denser the object the harder it was to keep manifested. And that barrier they created around their wound fit the profile. Talking about the wound, it was still fresh and painful. Welp, they had a good run, got a lot of priceless art back to their original homes. They couldn’t ask for more. Well they could, but having Diego Hargreeves pin them was already heaven sent.

_ Being pinned against a wall in a random back alley by my soulmate sure is a sexy little way to go. Very in character.  _

“Well I  _ did _ say I’d let you pin me, so fair game Hargreeves.” the thief could never complain about such an attractive man pinning them. It was almost dream like. Almost. The whole “being arrested for crimes against culture” put a damper on things.

“Are you just totally unfazed by the fact that I’m your soulmate?” Diego questioned, caught off guard by their composure. Tightening his grip on their wrists. Even though it was unnecessary, they were making no move to escape. 

“No I freaked out about it last night while stitching myself up. Gotta have scheduled freak out sessions y’know.” that was semi-true, the thief had been having a continuous freak out since they dove out the window. But if they were gonna be arrested they may as well go in being as suave as they can be. Diego winced upon hearing this however. Of course it would need stitches how stupid could he be?

“I’m sorry abou-”

“No no I get it, it’s your line of work. Better not drag this out, you can cuff me now” 

“That’s not-”

“Seriously I get it, you gotta do what you gotta do. That’s completely understandable-”

“I’m not arresting you, you idiot!” Diego snapped.

“You’re not?” they respond. Their face twisting into a confused expression. A mixture of relief and sudden coiling anxiety at the pit of their stomach.

“No! Who could do that? And is that really ALL you’re concerned about? Do you not care!?” Diego finds himself getting heated, his emotions were pouring out and he didn’t take kindly to their nonchalant tone. 

“I do so that’s why I wanted to get the whole ‘is he gonna arrest me or isn’t he’ question out of the way. Also was just curious about the cuffs.” the thief’s tone trembles slightly. They try their best to stay in control but the building feeling in their stomach was throwing them off their rhythm.

“How the fuck are you making jokes at a time like this?!” 

“Because I’m kiNDA TERRIFIED,” they snap back, clearly losing their already flimsy composure. “Give me a break! I just thought that my soulmate was about to arrest me, and also they kind of fucking stabbed me???” 

“SERIOUSLY?? What type of person do you take me for? What sort of asshole could do that! I’m not heartless.”

“Evidently!” the thief cries, “I was doubting that my soulmate even existed and now you’re here and you’re Diego fuckin’ Hargreeves and honestly I should have figured that out sooner but- “

“I just straight up thought you didn’t exist,” Diego interjects, seems like both parties were halfway through their own freak outs, “Like someone just carved this mark into me so I wouldn’t be left out or some shit. Was really kinda hoping you didn’t exist” 

“Oh great love being told that”

“Well it’s true! Both of us would be on our merry way if we didn’t have this shitty mark or these weird shitty powers”

“Okay so you definitely know I have powers. Cool cool cool. Totally cool.”

“You can’t tell me I’m wrong”

“No, no, you’re right for sure, but like isn’t this supposed to be a fun experience. Like aren’t we supposed to be happy? Cause right now I’m both very confused, a lil hurt about that not wanting me to exist comment AND hell turned on by you pinning me against this wall. Because, by God, you’re the most attractive man I have ever laid eyes on”, with that all conversation ceases. 

Both of them stop. Momentarily the thief is consumed by embarrassment. Because for once their seductive statements weren’t laced in sarcasm. It was just an in-the-heat-of-the-moment statement. Diego looks the thief up and down as they avert their gaze, red-faced. God what a stupid practical joke the world was playing on them. As he stares down at their clearly flustered face a low chuckle starts in his chest. Just overwhelmed by the absurdity of it all. And rather rapidly it gets louder and louder until Diego is almost incapacitated with laughter. He loosens his grip on their wrists letting it drop to their sides. However, the thief locks hands with him, in an act of comfort. They use their thumb to gently rub circles on his hand. Diego wasn’t used to such tender affections. Such a little thing mixes his laughter with sobs as he slid down the wall, bringing the thief with him. They end up on the floor in stitches. Tangled in the messy experience of laugh-crying. Diego placing his head on the curve between their neck and shoulder, kneeling over them. The thief ends up with leg sprawled outward, holding Diego close. 

“This is so fucked”, Diego manages through his dying laughs

“Yeah it’s absolutely absurd. No fucking clue what we should do. But I guess it’s an I won’t tell if you don’t sort of situation now?”, they say, breathless from not only from laugh-crying, but by how close they are to Diego. 

“I guess, it is. Wouldn’t dream of letting anyone know though. I mean, I’d never get the chance to pin you again. How could I live with myself?” he smirks at them as they get flustered again. 

“I have no idea how you would, it was a spiritual awakening” the thief winks at him after a second of regaining their composure. Desperately trying to gain any semblance of suaveness back. “So back to mine then, Diego?” 

Diego muses at the way his name sounded as it rolled off their tongue. They may have not known each other for long but Diego felt comforted by their presence. 

“Sure, probably the better option considering I live in the basement of a gym.”

“Wait… you live in a WHAT?” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just two awkward love birds trying to navigate their odd, confusing lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diego deserves good things and I will break my back to try and give it to him. This is the last chapter! Thank you guys for being patient with me, uni hit me like a tone of bricks. This is gonna be a much more domestic chapter. I hope you enjoy!

_ What a strange little life I live _ the artist ponders, taking a carton of eggs and bacon out of the fridge. Sounds of dull ringing in the background as their phone was propped up against the wall and an empty container. Coffee dancing on the tip of their nostril as it brews. Soft light washes through the blinds, illuminating the kitchen. Calm, serene, who knew their home could look like this? Placing the ingredients on the counter the dull ringing stops, C picking up his phone. 

“Yo boss, didn’t know you’d be conscious this early in the mornin’” C greets. 

“It’s eleven of course I’m awake”, they reply, placing for slices of bread into the toaster and gently pressing down. Continuing to work on breakfast as C talks in the background

“How was I supposed to know? You’ve been having a lot of late nights recently…” the artist groans, rather dramatically. Head thrown back, the whole shebang. They can almost hear C winking through the phone. 

“So what’s up anyway, what’s that sizzling noise?” the artist cracks a fourth egg into the small pan, making sure to turn the bacon they had set up on a slightly larger, secondary pan. Had to make sure the eggs didn’t touch the bacon, it had to be perfect. 

“Just making some breakfast, eggs and bacon, thought I’d treat Diego this morning.” this was partly accurate, you did want to surprise him, but you also didn’t want to walk into the kitchen at 8am to find Diego cracking a raw egg directly into his mouth. You’ve seen too much as it is, you don’t need to be put through extra trauma. 

“Aaaah, fair fair. Gotta treat him right so he eats yo-”

  
“Oh my fucking GOD C-”, C bursts into laughter, unreasonably proud of his terrible joke like the bastard he is. 

“I’m not in the slightest bit sorry.”

“I know you’re not you bastard” they hiss, head radiating off their blushing face. They couldn’t help it, it was still early days. Everything was new and overwhelming and they were a private person (as any criminal worth their salt was). 

“I’m not wrong and I can feel you blushing from here”, his laughter dies down a bit, seeming to have a bit of mercy for once.

“...whatever” 

“Who knew that you’d actually be adulting, wait wait lemme rephrase that. Who knew that you’d actually be the somewhat functioning adult in this relationship” C changes the subject.

“Not me that’s for sure!” 

“Right? Don’t forget to flip the bacon”, the artist curses, flipping the bacon. Any longer and things would have gotten messy. 

“Thanks” 

“I’m always here to save your bacon.” once again, the artists ears were assaulted by another terrible joke, this time they just roll their eyes and sigh. 

“You seem to have this much more under control than I do.” with the pop of the toaster the artist steps over to the counter. Keeping an eye on the stove, they take the bread out and cut it diagonally so that it makes little triangles. 

“The bacon?” 

“No you fool! Adulting, having a soulmate, that sort of stuff.” they reply, placing the toast on a rack and walking to the table to set it down. 

“Oooh,” C breathes out, “I really don’t. No one does. They’re just doing what feels right. Like, I wanna make my partner feel good, so I do what I can to make that happen. I go outta my way y’know? That’s what you’re doing now. And when he comes down those stairs to see that almost burnt bacon and eggs he’s gonna feel all warm and fuzzy. Then you’re gonna feel all warm and fuzzy. It’s like a warm, fuzzy cycle.” ,C wasn’t the most articulate. But when it came down to it he was much more emotionally mature than them. He had answers to questions even if he didn’t score style points. C was a man of substance. 

“Fuzzy, huh?”, they take a second to ponder this, a small smile spreading across their face, “I suppose it does feel that way. It feels good.” 

“That’s good, as long as it feels good. But you should probably learn how to do taxes.”

“I should learn how to do taxes”, they echo in agreement.

Bending down to pick up some plates they continue their idle chit chat with C. It wasn’t like they weren’t close with C beforehand, they were. But it felt different now. Everything was calmer now. Had they grown up? Finally? While plating up their slightly crispy breakfast, C says goodbye with the promise to swing by some time that week. He just  _ had _ to meet Diego, it would be  _ criminal _ if he didn’t. They remind him that he is, in fact, a criminal. All C could say was “who knows what we are anymore”. Just as C clicks off, they hear heavy foot falls coming down the stairs. It was strange honestly, Diego was often very silent. Mostly out of instinct at this point. But today they could  _ hear  _ him. The creak of the old wooden staircase was not something they were used to hearing. For the most part they lived alone, it had seemed easier that way, less mess. But now things were different.  _ They  _ were different. Sure they weren’t ever going to give up their line of work, so many pieces of art were stashed away but it’s not like they could ask Diego to give up his career. 

_ We’ll cross that hurdle when we come to it, let’s enjoy the present _ they conclude. Making sure not to spill any coffee (black, just as he liked it), they pour it into his Batman mug. It was vigilante solidarity, the artist had said, Diego just  _ had _ to have it! On the other hand, their mug was filled to the brim with sugar and cream.  _ Like most things, _ they think, _ coffee just doesn’t taste good until it’s utterly unhealthy.  _ As they place the pot back down the feel strong arms envelop them and lips press against their temple. They’re breathless for a second, heart fluttering. 

“Morning babe.”, Diego mumbles tucking his face in the crevice between their neck and shoulder. He pressed tightly against their body, drowning them in a bear hug. 

“Morning sleepyhead, rest well?” 

“Anything is better than a gym basement, especially when you have that electric blanket.” 

“It is a pretty good electric blanket,” he moves his head up to see what his love was doing. Wiggling free of his grasp they pick up both plates and stroll towards the table, wanting to conceal the surprise for just a bit longer.

“Get the coffees will you?” 

“Yes boss”, he gives a lazy salute, picking up both mugs and following after. The small table was next to the window. Diego noting that it was pretty bright. There were days the both of them would get back from a job at this time. Different jobs granted, but they both weren’t used to rising with the sun. Diego sets the mugs down as well as himself. It was at that time where he noticed what his soulmate had made for him. Two fried eggs and strips of bacon, arranged into a crispy little smile. Something twists in his heart, his breath hitches slightly. Blood rushing to hit face involuntarily. They pick up Diego’s hesitation right away, instantly embarrassed.

“Ah sorry if its a bit childish my parents used to make it like that, I guess I just subconsciously do it now-”

“It’s perfect.” a warm smile spreads across his face. He still gets surprised at how similar they can be. It must be a soulmate thing. 

“Actually my mom makes them like that too. God I should go see her at some point.” this catches the artist off guard slightly. They hadn’t been together that long at all but he hadn’t really mentioned his family at all. Maybe this was good, they were getting closer!

“Well then she must have good taste.” feeling relieved by this, they start to dig into their creation. Perhaps they should explore food art in the future? They were well versed in paint.  _ Well watercolours were always gonna be finicky but maybe I could start off with pancake batter and-  _

“It was the only way that I would eat having some sort of gimmick to my food. I guess I was a fussy kid. But then again she was programmed to deal with much worse-” Diego cuts their inner ramble off. 

“Programmed?”, they inquire. It was an odd choice of words. Diego mentally kicks himself. Vanya had omitted that part from her memoirs.

“Uh yeah… my mom is, well, she’s a robot.” 

They almost choke on their eggs. 

“Ah right that probably really-” he begins, fiddling with the cutlery knife by twirling it on his fingers.

“THAT’S SO COOL,” well that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. “Oh god when you go to visit can I come?? Oh my god if i ever told C- which I wouldn’t without your permission of course - he’d freak the fuck out, but like in a good way y’know!” 

“I mean sure, I was planning on going to see her next week, I think  _ He’s _ gonna be away for a day or two.” Diego didn’t need to say who, his soulmate could already guess. Reginald Hargreeves. It’s no secret, guy’s a piece of shit. The artist decides not not breach that topic right now, they wouldn’t bring it up until he was ready. Diego coughs, transitioning away from the topic of dear old dad. 

“I think she’d be glad to meet you. Not gonna lie, your complete acceptance of my mom being a robot is kinda strange.” Diego says, giving the knife one last twirl before digging into his breakfast. The artist mulls on this picking up their mug, swishing the not-so-dark liquid around before taking a sip.

“Valid point but have you considered that our lives are already really fucking weird.” they counter. 

“Fair.” he says, taking a sip of his coffee. Resigning himself to the bitter surge of caffeine. It was nice, this was nice. It had been years since someone had made him breakfast like this. Everything had suddenly got so domestic. It was strange. Criminal and vigilante, living peacefully beside one another. Yeah it was still a tad awkward but it was early days, not to mention that his lover physically wouldn’t let him spend another night in his old place. So they moved pretty fast in the relationship already. One second you’re stabbing a prolific art thief in the leg, next you’re moving into the home that they were using for their day time alias. Perhaps slowing down a bit would do them some good.  _ I guess I’m not really used to people caring about me like this,  _ Diego considers,  _ I feel… warm.  _ Comfortable silence fills the room as the couple eat, simply enjoying being in each others presence. 

\---

“Oh right, C is coming around this week.” the artist calls from the living room. Diego makes his way down the stairs, electric blankets, comforters and pillows in tow. 

“Oh yeah? ‘Bout time,” he grins wickedly, sauntering into the living room. A soft thud could be heard as dumps his haul onto the sofa. He turns to look at them but they seem to be fiddling with the T.V. The screen crackles on as they flip over the Netflix. It was gonna be a day full of trashy movies and junk food. 

“ ‘Bout time I caught him at least.” 

Throwing their head back the second groan of the morning topples out of their mouth. 

_ Why am I always surrounded by bad jokes _ , they scream internally.

“God you two might  _ actually _ get along. Just the thought of that gives me shivers.” they admit through dying groans.

In retaliation Diego throws a blanket at them, covering them completely. 

“Am I a joke to you?” they say deadpanned, underneath the hot pink blanket. He could picture their blank expressions. Eyes slanted, those oh-so-kissable lips in a straight line. Laughter rises from his chest, tingling slightly as it rose over his soulmate mark. The artist huffs, coming up with a plan. Using their limited sight they feel around the room, in an attempt to make their not so vigilant partner think they’re defenceless. _ If wants a fight it’s a fight he’ll get.  _ Feeling the wooden handle of a nearby rocking chair, they smirk. Luckily the shadow the blanket casts around them gave them enough power. They send a thin, inky black tendril down to pick it up. They do this while facing the direction of Diego’s voice. Diego, none the wiser, steps closer to his partner. By this time the tendril has delivered the pillow to their hand.  _ Game on, my love, game on.  _ Playfully grabbing them by the hips Diego pulls them in. 

_ Excellent, just stay nice and unaware. _

Diego, not thinking much of it, pulls off the blanket, revealing his partner. Except they looked almost too sweet, too innocent. He thought they’d be more huffy about this. He couldn’t help himself sometimes, he loved to tease them. By the time he connects the dots the pillow is planted firmly into the side of his face. He’d been tricked! 

Stunned into silence, he stands there, completely and utterly owned. Not one to waste an opportunity, his soulmate dives past him, bounding over the sofa and jumping up behind it. This meant one thing…

“Oh it is  _ on _ …  **PILLOW FIGHT!** ” Diego bellows as he runs for cover under the coffee table. He sweeps all the unnecessary decorative items and bowls of junk food off the table, placing them quickly by the side wall of the room. His soulmate pops their head out from behind the sofa and waits until he is done so he could flip the table over to use it for cover.  _ It’s the fair thing to do _ . But mainly they didn’t want their shit broken or their snacks spilled. While he does this they sneak all the pillows, which Diego himself supplied, over the top of the sofa. 

“You fool, you utter buffoon, you think that beautifully crafted oak-wood coffee table will keep you safe?!?! I have to LAUGH!” the thief-turned-super-villain cackles. Launching their attack, Diego sits back waiting for the bombardment of soft sort-of-cubes to end.

“You artists are all so dramatic.” he teases, coming up with a plan. Smirk spreading across his face. He was practically beaming. 

“exCUsE mE” the artist gasps, offended that he generalised their (daytime) profession. The attack speeds up, the villain throwing everything they’ve got at him. Quite literally everything. The foolish villain not realising their number of pillows were finite. Diego’s plan was coming together. All of the pillows were in his corner.

“Doll, I love you to death, but did you really forget my ability that quickly?” he warns lifting his head from up under his oak-wood safe house. Horror spreads across their face, realising how much they had utterly fucked up.

“oh shit”

And just like the <strike>turn tables</strike> tables turn. He begins his attack. 

Diego hadn’t really felt a rush as wholesome as this for a long time. He could just remember the dismay in his siblings faces once they realised his ability, quite obviously, extended to pillows. Of course they had only realised that once the game had started, y’know since they were kids and all. Not a lot of hindsight happening at age 5. But that’s enough reminiscing, he almost forgot that he was still throwing pillows at his soulmate. The soft thuds of the pillows kept cutting the villain off. They couldn’t get a word in edgewise, Diego was not letting up. One to the cheek, one to the back, one to the a- 

“HEY WATCH WHERE YOU THROW THOSE PILLOWS HARGREEVES” They cry out as they go down, pillows still pelting them as they fall stylishly and dramatically to the floor. 

“I curse you, handsome hero! Curse your ambiguous yet oddly specific powers!! Bllaaaaghhh” and with that the villain was “dead”. Diego, emerging victorious, laughs in triumph. He makes his way to where they were, seeing them sprawled out on the floor surrounded by <strike>friends</strike> pillows. They feigned death rather theatrically, tongue out, limbs semi-contorted. Diego kneels down close to their face. He inspects the scene closer. 

“Yup looks pretty dead to me-” but just as he pulls back, his soulmate hand shoots up and bunges his vest up in their fist, pulling him down. They pull him closer to their lips. And just as he was inches away… 

THUD. A pillow collides with Diego’s face, for the second time that day. His little villain cackling underneath him. Clearly they were rather amused with themselves. 

“Good tactics but I still win” Diego states in a fake huffy tone, plopping down onto the pillow bed with his love. He lays on his back, both hands placed securely under his head. Like the cocky bastard he was. 

“Yes but that was still a sick move”,they reluctantly admit. Diego hums in agreement. They lay there for a moment, taking in all that had happened. Enjoying the sensations of warm bodies so close to each other. 

“How inappropriate for a villain and hero to be mingling like this.” Diego states, breaking the silence, giving the artist a wink. Heat runs up and down their body. 

“It makes sense when you think about it, you’ve never suited a damsel in distress”, they retort after a moment. Diego mulls on this for a second. He supposed that it’s easier to have someone that could defend themselves rather than a completely helpless civilian. 

“Yeah you’re right, but having a criminal partner is definitely the complete opposite of that.” 

“Mmh but sometimes it’s good to break rules y’know.” they shuffle around to face Diego half laying down and half propped up their elbow stuck out supporting their weight, hand holding their head up. 

“Oh definitely, and I’m breaking the most important rule”, Diego turns, mirroring his love, leaning in to kiss them. In the moment before his lips make contact with theirs, he utters, “Don’t Fraternise With The Enemy.”


End file.
